


Expecto Patronum

by starryeyedchar



Series: Voltron Hogwarts AU [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Angst, Childhood Memories, F/M, Family Drama, Family Fluff, First Kiss, First Meetings, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Harry Potter AU, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-05-25 06:57:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14971547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starryeyedchar/pseuds/starryeyedchar
Summary: His happiest memory. One immediately came to Lance's mind. Funnily enough, it started out sad, which was kind of fitting. As Professor Alfor often said, there could never be true joy without the existence of true sorrow.Maybe that's why this memory was at the forefront of his mind the second he tried to come up with a happy one.Because the contrast was so strong, when his feelings changed abruptly from hopelessness to hope.He squeezed his eyes shut, picturing it.The happiest memories of Lance, Hunk, Pidge, Shiro, Allura, Lotor, and Keith. They think of these when casting their patronus.





	1. Lance

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to indulge myself by writing a Harry Potter AU! This is going to be the first work in the series, just seven short chapters of happiest memories of all those characters. It serves a bit to set the scene for the rest of the AU. The AU is going to be mostly about Keith and Lance, but I do want to give everyone chances in the spotlight for this one.
> 
> You'll find out people's houses/ages as we go, but I will put them in a list in the ending notes here so they're just waiting for you after every chapter. (In advance, I'm sorry if you disagree with any of my sorting choices, but please refrain from telling me so. If you want to know why I chose a specific house for a specific person, please feel free to ask on my tumblr, starryeyed-char.) Please enjoy!

_My happiest memory_ , Lance thought. One immediately came to mind. Funnily enough, his happiest memory started out sad, which was kind of fitting.

Though Lance's life had mostly been smooth sailing, the shores from which he came had been rocky, and at first it seemed like he'd never catch wind of any luck. But, as Professor Alfor often said, there could never be true joy without the existence of true sorrow.

Maybe that's why this memory was at the forefront of his mind the second he tried to come up with a happy one.

Because the contrast was so strong, when his feelings changed abruptly from hopelessness to hope.

He squeezed his eyes shut, picturing it.

 

* * *

 

 

Lance lifted up a hand, as if he could touch the glittering night sky, if only he could stretch far enough.

That night, the stars shined just past the reach of his fingertips.

“What're you up to out here, little dude? There's a storm coming. You're gonna get caught in the rain.”

Lance tilted his head back to see Marco standing over him, a lopsided grin on his face.

Marco was the closest in age to Lance out of his three siblings, and had just returned to Cuba from his first year at Hogwarts, along with Luis and Veronica in their fourth and sixth years, respectively.

Lance hated to be without them for nine months, but he wasn't exactly happy when they came back either, full to the brim with everything they'd learned and gushing to anyone who would listen.

It just made him jealous. And that made him feel _guilty_. But Lance couldn't help it.

He wanted to go to Hogwarts _with_ them. He wanted to have a wand, and learn spells, and play quidditch.

Lance wanted to be a wizard, too.

But he was eight years old now, and he'd never done anything magical. Long before this age, or so he'd heard, his siblings had wreaked accidental havoc with their own powers. Whenever his extended family came to visit, especially his mom's side, he heard whispers.

“The boy's a Squib. No better than his Muggle father.”

“I told her she shouldn't have married him. What a waste.”

Lance hated his apparent lack of magic. He hated that anyone would compare him to his good-for-nothing, non-magic father who'd left his mom with four kids to take care of on her own.

He hated the idea that he would be left behind by the family he had— all magical, all talented, all so much better than him. He hated that he couldn't do anything about any of it, because he was just a useless kid.

Lance didn't say any of that to Marco, though. He just turned his head back to the sky, and narrowed his eyes. “Stargazing,” he declared, as if it were his job. Marco snorted.

“You've always loved the stars,” he said. “Ever since you were a little baby. What's that thing mom always says? _Dispara por la luna, y siquiera si fallas, vas a atterizar entre las estrellas_.”

Lance sighed. “Yeah, but I can't shoot for anything, not like this. That's not why I like looking at the stars, anyway.”

Marco waited.

“I like them because they sparkle,” Lance said softly, voice barely a whisper. “The stars are like magic.”

“Magic is more than just the sparkles and spells, Lance. It's about what's in here,” Marco tapped a finger to his own heart, then one to Lance's. “Magic is within us.”

“It's not within me,” Lance mumbled, an edge of bitterness slicing into his voice. “I'm just... useless.”

“Hey,” Marco sat down beside him, concern furrowing his brow. “You are _anything_ but useless, Lance.”

“If I'm a Squib like everyone says, and I can't do magic, then I'm useless,” Lance shot back. “Just... just like dad.”

Marco's face fell. “Dad... yeah, maybe he wasn't the right kind of muggle. But even if you don't turn out to have magic, you're still special, Lance. You can still do great things.”

Lance raised an eyebrow at him skeptically. “Like what? I want to go to Hogwarts with you, I want to be a wizard like you. What could I ever do that's as good as _magic_?”

Marco sighed, glanced up at the stars, and then lied down beside him. 

“Listen, Lance,” he said, voice soft. “When you look up at the sky, what do you see?”

“Magic,” Lance repeated, his young mind stubbornly clinging to the idea.

“Maybe that's what _you_ see,” Marco said, with a small laugh. “And that's what a lot of other people thought too, at first. Nobody questioned the presence of lights in the sky. Until _someone_ realized that those lights? They're so much more than that. They're millions of miles away, and the center of their own solar systems. There are whole other _worlds_ out there, worlds we didn't have any idea even existed until someone figured it out, and changed the facts forever. You know who did that?”

Lance gave him a small smile. “Some muggle?”

Marco ruffled his hair, with a huff of laughter. “Yeah. A whole bunch of muggles. Just because they can't do magic doesn't mean they can't change the world. And those discoveries made it possible for people to chart the stars, which is the basis for classes at Hogwarts like Astronomy, which I took, or Divination, which Veronica loves.”

“Really?” Lance asked, and his eyes were so hopeful and bright in that moment that they looked like the stars.

“Really,” Marco told him, with a grin that quickly Lance returned. “Everything is connected, even muggles and wizards. Like the constellations the stars make in the sky.” He pointed up, tracing the invisible lines in the air with a finger, creating pictures made of light.

“Wow.” Lance's voice was hushed. He reached up his own hand once again, fingers outstretched to catch them. The stars seemed closer, somehow.

They were both silent for a moment, just looking up at the sky as if it held all the answers.

And in a strange way, it did.

Marco sat up suddenly, and Lance fought down his disappointment. It had grown late, and Lance knew they should be heading inside. “Thanks, Marco,” he said. “That made me feel a bit better. I guess even if I never develop any magic, it wouldn't be so bad. But I... I still want to go to Hogwarts, like you, and Luis, and Veronica, and mom... I can't help it.”

Lance expected Marco to call him selfish, to accuse him of not listening. He wouldn't blame him, but... even if it was impossible, Lance couldn't help what his heart longed for.

“I don't think you need to worry about that,” Marco said instead, voice awestruck and breathy.

Lance turned to him in confusion. “What do you mean?” But even before Marco said anything, he'd already seen it.

Torrents of water were falling from above, soaking into the sand everywhere. Everywhere, except for where the two of them sat.

Lance sprang to his feet, and Marco looked at him, eyes wide. “This is the only spot where it's not raining.”

“Stargazing is better for clear skies,” Lance whispered, still staring out across the beach. He looked down at himself, trying to make sense of how he could still be entirely dry.

“What?”

“When... when you said there was a storm coming, I thought to myself that stargazing is a lot better when the skies are clear. But...”

He looked up, and the stars above them were still entirely visible, while other parts of the sky were completely concealed.

“How?” Lance asked, of no one in particular.

He took a few steps forward, and then broke into a stumbling run across the sand. It was wet under his feet, but even as he ran to the place where seconds ago the downpour seemed endless, not a single drop fell on him.

He turned around only to see that Marco was already drenched. He didn't seem to care, though. “Lance...” he murmured. “You... you have magic...”

“Magic?” Lance echoed in disbelief.

His brother nodded. “That's gotta be it. You subconsciously created some sort of shield between you and the rain, so you could keep stargazing. You... you _must_ have magic, and a lot of it too, if you can pull off something like that.”

“Magic?” Lance said again, staring down at his hands. They shook with his excitement. And they were still dry. “I... Marco, I'm doing MAGIC!”

“And you're damn good at it! Mom's going to be so proud!” Marco said, thrilled and momentarily forgetting that he probably shouldn't curse in front of his eight year old brother.

“I'm... I'M MAGIC!” Lance declared, shouting the word again as if it meant everything and nothing all at once. “I'M MAGIC!” He could hear Marco laughing at his sheer joy, and Lance was laughing too.

Laughing, because he didn't know what else to do with all the feelings building up inside him. Everything he'd ever wanted, everything he'd ever prayed for, had just been granted to him in a split second, and it was _wonderful_ , yet terrifying, and so, so exciting he could hardly breathe.

So, he continued to run down the beach, tearing a path through the rain as he went, for it still wouldn't touch him.

The spell was finally broken when Lance ran into the ocean, but he was too happy to care about the sudden water soaking through his clothes and into his skin from above and below. He was too happy to be affected by the chills it brought to his small frame, and he didn't care that the storm clouds finally covered up the stars and sealed off all light from reaching them, descending the night into near pitch blackness.

Because in that moment, everything in Lance's world was bright, and shining, and _magical_.

Marco hoisted his younger brother up onto his back, and began to walk back up the beach. “Come on,” he said, with a smile. “We should head back. You can tell the others how spectacular you are.”

“Because of the magic?”

Marco shook his head. “I'm glad you finally found it. But like I said before, you're something special, Lance, regardless of your magic. Don't ever forget that.”

 

* * *

 

Lance opened his eyes, and gasped at what he saw before him.

A dolphin, made out of light that shimmered and sent a pang of nostalgia through him, sailed through the air. It swam circles in an invisible sea around him, graceful, playful, and content to just exist. He reached out hand to touch it, and came away with nothing but light and a feeling of lasting joy as his patronus faded into nothingness.

He smiled.

 


	2. Hunk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a few hours late, so this one and Pidge will technically be on the same day. Because it's 3 AM. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

Hunk had always been a family-oriented guy. He loved his relatives more than anything in the world, and he spent all his time with them, even though his moms were in the very small percentage of wizarding families that had decided to send their children to public school until they grew old enough to go to Hogwarts. Most would just homeschool their kids.

But Hunk had never had many friends. At school, he was shy and anxious, and never talked to anyone much. The other students teased him for his weight more often than not. Then again, if you accidentally make things happen that no one but you understands, that gives bullies plenty of material.

Hunk had been _terrified_ to go to Hogwarts, to be away from his family and at the mercy of people who would probably just end up being  new bullies for nine whole months. He wouldn't even have any siblings there his first few years, since he was the oldest. His parents, both witches who had gone to Hogwarts and in fact met there, assured him he would love it, but Hunk wasn't so sure.

Which is why it was surprising that Hunk's happiest memory didn't take place at home, or with his family. It involved only him and one other person, a person he was meeting for the first time.

But it also made sense, because of the impact this one specific person had had on his life since that time. He was Hunk's first friend, his _best_ friend.

No matter how many happy memories Hunk had with his family, no specific moment could hold a candle to the day he met Lance McClain on the Hogwarts Express.

 

* * *

 

Hunk stared out the window, even though the train hadn't left the station yet. He'd already said goodbye to his family, and with every second his dread grew.

He'd secured a car near the front of the train, where the first years usually sat, all to himself. Hunk had already made up his mind that he would talk to the other kids as little as possible. Maybe that way, he wouldn't get made fun of.

Hunk turned back to look at the door when he heard noises from behind it, only to see several Hogwarts students, both in robes and out, passing by him without so much as glancing in the car.

One short boy with black hair and eyes that seemed almost purple did pause to look, but quickly continued trailing after the older girl in front of him, who was probably his sister.

Hunk nearly turned back to the window, but stopped when he made eye contact with another boy walking past a few moments later.

This boy's eyes were a calm, dark blue, and he was walking with his two apparent brothers. They stopped, and asked the boy something.

The boy stared at Hunk and the empty car for a moment longer. Then he nodded once, and slid open the door. He plopped down onto the seat across from Hunk with an enormous grin that was all but contagious, and stuck out a hand.

“Sorry to barge in like that. I was going to sit with my siblings, but when I saw you sitting alone I figured you could use someone to talk to! I'm Lance, by the way.”

Hunk stared at his outstretched hand, dumbfounded.

And Lance's smile faltered. “Unless... sorry. I shouldn't have assumed you'd want to talk to me. I can go—”

“ _No_!” Hunk blurted, finally finding his voice. He had no idea what was going on, but he knew that he didn't want Lance to leave. “I mean... no, you can stay. I'm— I'd love someone to talk to. I'm Hunk.” They shook hands.

“Hunk,” Lance echoed, and Hunk mentally cursed himself. He shouldn't have told him that. “Is that... like a nickname, or...?”

“No,” Hunk said, with a sigh. “It's my actual name.” He waited for the teasing to begin. How someone who looked like him shouldn't have a name like that. How his name didn't fit him in any way, shape, or form.

“Hunk,” Lance said again, tapping his chin thoughtfully. He was smiling again before he'd ever really stopped. “I like it! What a cool name! I'll bet the ladies love it, huh?”

Hunk snorted. _Ladies_? They were eleven years old.

Lance was undeterred. “Man, I'll bet there are so many cute girls at Hogwarts! I don't really have that many friends my age, since my siblings and I were homeschooled before this, but I just _know_ it's going to be great! I'll get to meet so many new people, like you! How fun is that?”

Hunk hummed vaguely, trying to seem interested. The idea of being in a permanent setting with all his peers wasn't exactly all that appealing... but he had to admit that if everyone at this school was as nice as this Lance kid, then maybe he could get used to it.

Lance was, apparently, unfazed by Hunk not answering any of his questions. In fact, he rambled on, not hesitating to ask even more.

“What house do you think you'll be in? I'm pretty sure I'll get put in Hufflepuff, like my brother Marco. But it'd be _super_ cool to be a Gryffindor, don't you think?”

This time, Hunk nodded. He'd done as much research as he could into Hogwarts, and the four houses were actually something he knew quite a bit about.

“Ravenclaw seems pretty cool, too,” he offered, and Lance nodded.

“Yeah, Veronica was a Ravenclaw. I'm nowhere _near_ smart enough for that, though. I hear you have to answer a different riddle every time you go through! As if remembering a password isn't hard enough! How crazy is that?” Lance asked, with a shake of his head, then continued before Hunk could reply. “Man, I hope we're in the same house! Then we could be roommates.”

“Maybe,” Hunk said, and he couldn't help but hope so. But this boy seemed like a Gryffindor if Hunk had ever seen one. Outgoing, speaking his mind, yet kind for no reason at all. And Hunk would probably get put in Hufflepuff, which he didn't mind.

Still, it would be nice if he got to spend more time with his first friend.

“You said you had siblings?” Hunk asked, trying to contribute more to the conversation. If he wanted to return the kindness Lance was showing, he should at least give answers of more than one word.

“Yep!” Lance replied, instantly beaming. “Veronica's the oldest— she was a Ravenclaw before she graduated. Luis is a Slytherin, and he's in his seventh year. Marco's in his fifth year now. Hufflepuff. Do you have any siblings?”

Hunk nodded. “Two, but they're both too young to go to Hogwarts yet.”

Lance tilted his head to the side. “Both your parents are magical, then?”

“Yeah,” Hunk said, nodding again. “My moms are both witches. They sent us to regular public school, though, instead of homeschooling.”

Lance seemed to hesitate, before blurting another question. “You're pure-blooded, then?”

Hunk shook his head. “One of my moms is, or at least it's all wizards so far back that we can barely keep track. But my other mom's parents were muggles. So I'm a half-blood, I guess.”

Lance, who had become momentarily tense, relaxed again. “ _Good_.”

“Do... you weren't asking because you have something against people who are muggle-born, were you?” Hunk wondered, almost afraid to ask. He had really hoped this Lance was as nice as first impressions had suggested.

Lance's eyes widened, and he shook his head automatically. “No! Of course not! It's just... well. My dad was a muggle, and my mom's a witch. She warned me that a lot of pure-blooded wizards have a problem with people who aren't like them. Even though I'm not fully muggle-born, a lot of people think that muggles and wizards shouldn't be allowed to be together at all. That's... that's why I asked.”

“Nope. Half-blood brothers, man,” Hunk said with a grin, then immediately regretted it. Just when he was making a friend, he had to go and say something lame.

But Lance smiled back. “Yeah!” He gave Hunk a high-five, then opened his mouth to say something else. Before he could, however, the door to their car opened.

“Anything from the trolley, dears?” asked the little old lady wheeling a cart of candy and treats.

Lance was visibly staring at all the food longingly, and Hunk couldn't blame him. The smell alone was enough to make his mouth water.

“No, thank you,” Lance started to say anyway. “I'm good—”

“Hey,” Hunk interrupted, fishing out some of the galleons his moms had given him specifically for this purpose. “What's life without a little sweetness? Can we get... two pumpkin pasties, two chocolate frogs, and... some every-flavor beans, just for fun?”

He returned to his seat with the goods, and Lance stared at him in awe. “You didn't have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” Hunk said, handing Lance his share. “You didn't have to come sit with me when you saw me by myself.”

“I wanted to.” Lance held out his own chocolate frog case, and clicked it against Hunk's in a childlike toast. “To magic and to new friends, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Hunk echoed, mimicking the gesture.

They ate the chocolate quickly, as children always did, and enthused about their cards. Lance had received Professor Alfor and Hunk had gotten Professor Gyrgan.

Lance sighed contentedly, wiping a hand across his face and smudging chocolate on the side of his nose. “I hope everyone at Hogwarts is as amazing as you.” he said, voicing Hunk's thoughts exactly.

The rest of the train ride they spent just as happily, eating both impossibly disgusting and delicious jelly-beans and talking about their excitement for sorting and classes while the rolling green hills sped past them under a sunset out the window.

 

* * *

 

Hunk opened his eyes, with a small smile at the memory. A translucent dog materialized out of thin air from the point of his wand, and ran around in circles at his feet. _A pretty fitting patronus_ , he thought. _Man's best friend_.

And Lance really was his best friend. Even after being sorted into different houses, him in Gryffindor and Hunk in Ravenclaw, they still did everything together that they could. And in their second year, Pidge joined their group, resulting in countless wonderful memories that Hunk had never had before meeting them.

But out of all of those, this moment stuck out the most. It was the beginning of a whole new era of Hunk's life, the moment he met his favorite person. 

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to see Lance looking at his patronus, a smile on his face.

“Woah, a Labrador! Aren't they, like, one of the friendliest and cuddliest dogs ever? It fits,” Lance said, then seemed to think for a moment. “Well, but wait, is it a chocolate lab or a yellow lab? Or a black lab? I can't really tell.”

Hunk shrugged, not sure which color the ethereal blue light was supposed to represent. “I don't think it matters, man.”

Lance laughed. “Yeah, you're right. Whatever it is, it's perfect.”

And it really was.

 


	3. Pidge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, wait was longer than I expected. I'm super busy this week and have still been trying to post every day, which is why. But this part is also longer than the last two, so. Enjoy Pidge's happiest memory!

When asked to think of a happy memory, there was really only one person Pidge thought of, because _all_ her memories with him were joyous.

Sure, she valued Lance and Hunk's friendship over almost anything, but Pidge's bond with her brother Matt was much stronger. Even before she became the person she was, before she cut her hair short and started going only by the nickname Matt so fondly called her, he was there. He'd _always_ been there for her. And that couldn't be said about many people.

Her lack of trust in others became a strong foundation for Pidge to stand on, and her self-oriented ambitions got her put in Slytherin, a very odd place for a 'mudblood' like herself to end up. But she made the most of it, as she did with everything.

But her happiest memory, strangely enough, felt like it was from a different life altogether. Back when she preferred going by Katie, with long pigtails and longer dresses, and her eyes shined with innocent wonder.

Back when she was just introduced to the secret world that blended perfectly into her own.

 

* * *

 

When Matt got his Hogwarts letter, Pidge's young world was shattered. He was taken away from her for nine long months to learn _magic_. Something Pidge hadn't even considered the existence of to be a remote possibility, and something she'd stopped believing in long before other girls her age.

But then, she prided herself on being a woman of science.

Until all of that flew out the window, when they learned Matt was capable of magic.

And she wanted to be able to do it, too. _Desperately_.

As luck would have it— or a very slim margin of probability, anyhow —she got her letter on her eleventh birthday.

Pidge had been much too distracted to even notice the signs; the weird little things that happened which she could never explain. It just simply never crossed her mind that two children with two 'muggle' parents could both somehow have powers.

It was like a miracle.

She had held up her letter to Matt, smiling wide, and he had grinned back at her, hoisting her up into the air and swinging her around.

He held up his own letter beside hers. Matt would be entering his third year, and he decided that they'd have to go shopping for all the supplies they would need together. “Sibling bonding,” he had said, with a wink.

Their parents allowed it, since neither of them knew the first thing about how to shop for 'wizard school.'

And so, late July found the Holt siblings walking into the Leaky Cauldron, a dingy little place that made Pidge wrinkle her nose.

“ _This_ is a wizard inn?” she asked skeptically, looking around the dimly lit room. “You made it sound amazing.”

“It is,” Matt guaranteed, leading her by the arm to the back of the store. “You just haven't seen the amazing part yet.” He stopped short, and gestured grandly at the small outside area behind the store, where the trash cans were kept.

Pidge was still unimpressed. “It's just a brick wall,” she deadpanned, and crossed her arms.

Matt shook his head, still with a grin. “Wrong again, Pidgey. One thing you're going to learn very quickly at Hogwarts is that nothing is quite as it seems.”

He tapped a specific pattern of the bricks with his wand, and Pidge watched in awe as the wall morphed into an archway that led to the most wonderful street she'd ever seen.

Matt seemed pleased by her reaction. “Welcome,” he said, with a small bow. “To Diagon Alley.”

“Woah,” she whispered, in quiet reverie. There was nothing else she could say, no other word to describe the sheer amazement she felt in that moment.

For once her in her life, Pidge was able to rejoice in the fact that she couldn't comprehend what her eyes were seeing. Because a whole new world had just been opened to her, and she couldn't _wait_ to explore just how it worked.

She took off at a run, eyes glancing from store window to store window, each one full of something even more miraculous than the last. She paused in front of an adorable little place called Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, and Matt was only able to drag her away by promising they'd go there later.

“We have to exchange the money Dad gave us at Gringotts first,” he reminded her. “We can't exactly pay for wizard stuff with dollars and cents.”

Pidge grumbled, but the second she was actually inside the wizard bank all her complaints flew out the arched windows. The vaulted ceiling was beautiful, the light fixtures casting the whole place in a golden sort of glow, and the goblins that sat at every booth were smaller than even her!

Exchanging money was a pretty easy feat, though Pidge couldn't help but be a little bummed that they wouldn't go to any vaults, which you got to do in a car that felt like riding a rollercoaster. Matt had gone before with his best friend, Shiro. 

As it was, they were in and out of Gringotts pretty quickly, and then began walking back down the street.

Pidge found it impossible to take everything in at once, but she still tried her hardest to look at every individual detail, so she wouldn't miss anything.

That is, until she got a bit distracted. By books.

Flourish and Blotts' display window had Pidge immediately freezing in her tracks, and she pressed her hands against the glass in awe. The _titles_. Each one held promises of something extraordinary. _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. _Hogwarts: A History_. She wanted nothing more than to crack open and read every single one of them.

“Let's not get distracted, Pidge,” Matt scolded, nudging her lightly down the street.

“Oh, you're one to talk!” Pidge shot back, with a snort. “Or did I not have to practically drag you away from _Quality Quidditch Supplies_?”

Matt's face went bright red. “That's different!” he protested. “I just got on the Hufflepuff team last year, and I had to use one of the school broomsticks! I should get my own! Shiro has a Nimbus, and I'm just using an old model of the Cleansweep!”

“I... have no idea what that means.”

Matt smirked. “Well, that's a first. Though, I suppose if there was one thing you wouldn't care to learn about the wizarding world, it would be the sports.”

Pidge sighed. “Well... whatever. How come we can't at least _look_ inside? I do actually need books for school, don't I?”

“Yeah, but we have to go in nearly all these stores at some point. You'll also need a cauldron from Pottage's, robes from Madame Malkin's... but most importantly, you need a wand,” Matt told her. “I say you go to Ollivander's first.”

“You're not coming?” Pidge asked, trying to hid the disappointment in her voice. Matt rubbed the back of his neck.

“I... have something I have to do, first. But I'll meet you there!”

Pidge's eyes narrowed. “If you're going to blow all of Dad's money to get _me_ school supplies on a new broomstick for your dumb wizard sports—”

“I'm not, I'm not, I swear!” Matt promised, raising his hands up defensively. “I just need to get some things for... for myself, real quick! Second years need some new supplies. Yeah.”

Pidge rolled her eyes, and refrained from asking why he wouldn't just get them at the same time as her. She could tell he was lying, after all.

She resolved to grill him about it later, but at that moment she was too excited to finally get a wand of her own that she didn't care.

The door jingled softly when she went inside, but she couldn't see a bell. Before Pidge could investigate further into it, a man appeared from the back of the store.

She turned to see him, and gaped at what she saw.

Boxes. Shelves and shelves of long, narrow boxes, from ceiling to floor.

“Searching for your first wand?” the man, who she assumed was Ollivander, asked with a kind smile. Pidge nodded, still too much in awe to say anything. “Well, we had better get started then.”

He turned toward the wall, and stared expectantly at the boxes of wands as if expecting them to tell him something.

“Um... so, should I just... pick one?” Pidge asked uncertainly, reaching for a box that was a nice, olive green.

Ollivander smacked her hand away. “The wand chooses the witch, Miss Holt. Not the other way around.”

“Right, right,” Pidge muttered, drawing away again. “Sorry.”

He continued to look at her for a moment, before tapping his chin and turning back to the shelves. “Hmm. You are eager,” he mused. “You require a wand as eager as you.”

He selected a thin, pale pink box from the shelf, opened it, and handed it to her.

Resting neatly inside was a short, slender wand with light colored wood.

“What is it?” Pidge asked. She remembered Matt telling her all about his wand when he got it— he'd tried dozens of them before a Chestnut wand with a unicorn hair core finally fit.

“Sycamore. Eleven inches, and a dragon heartstring core,” Ollivander told her. “Sycamore wands long for experience and adventure, and grow bored when performing only regular tasks. This is why they require curious, outgoing witches and wizards.”

She took it out of its box and held it in her hand. Ollivander didn't react to this, but Pidge felt like an idiot. This _twig_ was supposed to be able to do magic on command? “Do I just... wave it around?”

Ollivander nodded. “Go on.”

Pidge hesitated, then squeezed her eyes shut and waved the wand in the air.

The noise startled her enough that her eyes snapped open, just in time to see an entire shelf's worth of wands go flying every which way.

She gasped, an apology already on the tip of her tongue, but Ollivander waved her off.

“Don't worry, Miss Holt, my wands are sturdy enough that they won't be broken so easily. This happens all the time,” he reassured her, though he did look at the mess with a noticeable degree of exasperation. “Perhaps... something else.”

Pidge waited, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot as she placed the sycamore wand back in its pink box. Ollivander emerged from browsing through the pile of wands that now rested on the floor with a longer black box. He handed it to her.

“Try this one next,” he said. “Cedar wands are best suited to the perceptive. They can make an unassuming witch or wizard incredibly powerful, if matched well. This one is fourteen inches, with a phoenix feather core.”

Pidge took this one, too, though she was much more hesitant now. She leaned away from the wand when she waved it, though she didn't close her eyes this time.

For a moment, nothing happened at all.

And then the shop's window shattered.

Pidge moved her arms up to cover her face from the glass, but a simple wand wave from Ollivander caused it all to disintegrate, harmless.

“Closer, but no. Not right either,” Ollivander mused, sounding as relaxed as if he were talking about the weather. He leaned down and, after brushing his fingers along the edges of several boxes, chose a grass green one. “This may do the trick.”

She took the box from him, and opened it. For the first time throughout the entire process she felt... _something_.

This wand was special.

Pidge lifted the wand from its light green wrappings, and stared at the smooth, light washed wood. It was shorter than the last one, and thicker in diameter than the first, and the handle was like a rounded off triangular prism that narrowed out into a thin cylinder. It seemed to fit perfectly in her hand.

Ollivander seemed pleased at her wide-eyed gaze. “Beautiful, isn't it? A beech wand of twelve inches, with a phoenix feather core. These wands, when matched with a young witch or wizard, tend to lean towards those with wisdom exceeding that of their peers. It has a very good reputation for being put to amazing use by those of a strong mind. I think it suits you quite well, Miss Holt.”

Pidge was hesitant, afraid of causing another disaster. This was only her third attempt, and Matt had tried dozens. But she knew she wanted _this_ wand to pick her.

Before she even waved her hand, however, a soft wind seemed to blow around her, pushing her hair out of her face. It grew gradually stronger, swirling around and around. She may have imagined it, but the wand seemed to be glowing with a slight hue of green.

Then, the wind stopped.

Pidge met Ollivander's gaze, and found him smiling at her.

“ _There_ you are,” he said simply, before getting back behind the desk.

She paid him for the wand with some of the money Matt had given her, and then turned on her heel and made her way outside of the shop, clutching her new prized possession close to her chest.

Matt had said he would meet her, but he was nowhere to be seen. Pidge searched the lines of shops, trying to find that bookstore she'd wanted so badly to go inside... but her gaze snagged on something else.

A dark alleyway which hardly any witch or wizards around seemed to want to acknowledge. She could see others walking around down it, though. The street seemed much less well-kept there, and shadows lurked around every corner. A witch emerged from it, the hooded robe she wore obscuring her face almost completely, but Pidge could see that she had long, stringy white hair.

As she watched, an entire family walked into the alley. Two parents, their daughter who had hair a deep shade of purple that matched her mothers', and a boy with black hair that was... styled into a _mullet_?

Pidge would've laughed if the boy didn't look miserable to be dragged down the dark alley with his family. 

She started forward, curiosity seizing her. She wanted to talk to that family, she wanted to go into that alley, and look at the shops there, shrouded in darkness with the only lights coming from their window displays.

But before she could, a firm hand snaked around her arm.

“Pidge,” Matt hissed as she turned toward him. “What're you doing?”

Pidge answered the question with one of her own. “What's down there?” She tilted her head at the other alleyway, which the family had already disappeared down.

Matt's face drained of all color, and he immediately began steering her away. “That's Knockturn Alley,” he told her. “It's where dark witches and wizards go.”

That only made her want to visit it _more_. “For what?”

“To buy... you know, _things_. For dark magic.”

Pidge didn't know dark magic was even possible until right then. How could any aspect of something so wonderful... be bad?

“Anyway, don't even think about going there. Ever,” Matt said, and continued before she could deny ever planning to. “And don't even try to lie. I know how you get. But you can't. Wizards like that... they don't really like _our_ kind.”

Pidge almost asked him what he meant by that. A happy memory would've been ruined by Matt having to explain to her how some wizards were prejudiced, and believed that muggle-borns like themselves were abominations. She would've learned all about the less pleasant side of magic, before being sorted into Slytherin and finding it all out for herself.

But then she noticed the cage in Matt's hands, and all thoughts of the dark alley were forgotten.

“ _What's that_?!” she practically squealed, seizing the cage from him before he could answer.

Inside was an impossibly small owl, staring back at Pidge with impossibly big, bluish green eyes.

It was about the right size to be able to fit comfortably in one of her hands, and the color of its feathers ranged anywhere from a beautiful dark grey to snow white.

“Did you buy this for me?” Pidge asked, her voice soft.

“Of course I did!” Matt said, with a grin. “You can't go to Hogwarts without a pet, and owls are the best way to get letters from mom and dad! Bay, my owl, is how I got all those coded letters you wrote me!”

Pidge snorted. “Yeah, because for some reason wizards don't use technology.”

“Who needs technology when you have magic?” Matt asked, then sighed at Pidge's skeptical look. “Yeah, okay, _maybe_ I wish the wizarding world was more high tech, so I didn't have to physically write all my essays on a scroll with a quill. But the owl is for more than just messaging, he can be your friend! If you don't get sorted into Hufflepuff, I won't be able to look out for you. So maybe... he can do it for me.”

Pidge looked at the owl for another second longer. He could be like a familiar— always by her side, and looking out for her. Watching for danger. She could already imagine the adventures she'd take this small, adorable pet on. She turned back to Matt, and handed him back the small cage. “I'm going to call him Rover,” she said, with a grin.

Matt smiled back. “I love it.”

 

* * *

 

Years later, Pidge's wand still gave her that amazing feeling with every spell it cast, like a soft breeze on a sunny day. It was no different when she cast the spell to conjure her patronus.

And when she opened her eyes, it looked almost exactly like Rover. A small owl, flying in a circle around her head and then soaring up, higher and higher into the air.

“An owl?” she heard Lance say, from behind her. “Figures. The stereotypical smart animal.”

“It looks like Rover, doesn't it?” Hunk wondered, tilting his head to the side so he could look at her patronus better. “Or is it just me?”

Pidge couldn't help the smile on her face. Maybe the real Rover was just an owl, who had trouble carrying too big packages and who loved to make a nest out of her hair so he could sleep in it.

But this owl could do what Matt wanted. It would protect her.

And in a way, it was because of him that she was able to conjure a patronus at all. Because just being around Matt made her happy.

She looked over at him from the across the room, and found that he too was looking up at her patronus in awe. He'd conjured up an otter that appeared to be swimming through the air around him.

Pidge grinned, and he smiled back. The patronus charm was pretty cool, Pidge decided, but did she even really need it when she had Matt to watch out for her?

And of course, she'd always watch out for him, too.

 


	4. Shiro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again! The whole once a day thing has gone out the window, just because I've been super busy AND on top of that, not feeling so well. But here's Shiro's happiest memory! I hope you enjoy!

“Think about your happiest memory,” Shiro told the others. He was the only one of them who'd successfully performed a patronus charm before. “Keep it in your head while you say the spell, and even after it. The stronger the memory, the stronger the patronus. I know you can do it.”

The eight of them met in the room of requirement frequently; it was their favorite hangout spot. And after his recent encounter with dementors, Shiro decided to teach the others to conjure their patronuses. It wasn't something they went over in detail in classes, so even Lotor— the only other seventh year among them —had never done it before.

Shiro only knew because of the extra lessons he'd taken with Professor Kolivan. Without them, he never would've survived the dementors' unprecedented attack.

He didn't want his friends to be as unprepared.

“Give us something to work with, Takashi,” Matt said teasingly, and Shiro rolled his eyes. His boyfriend was the only one who could call him that and get away with it. “What's _your_ happiest memory?”

If Shiro knew Matt at all, he was only asking because he wanted to hear that he was in it.

And, of course, he was.

 

* * *

 

Shiro's parents were both Aurors. Fantastic people that fought dark witches and wizards and brought them to justice, living dangerous, adventurous lives. He wanted to be just like them some day.

But... he also wanted a family. He wanted husband or wife, and kids. And he wanted to be _there_ for them.

Unfortunately, his parents both being Aurors meant they... weren't home very often, even over the summer when he was back from school.

For this reason, Shiro's happiest memory took place far away from his home in Godric's Hollow, and instead in a town closer to Hogwarts.

Hogsmeade.

It was during the winter of his fifth year, and Matt's fourth, that this specific visit took place. They'd gone many times with a group of friends before, and alone. This happened to be one of the times where it was just the two of them trudging along through the snow.

“We should go to Honeydukes,” Matt said through chattering teeth. His hands were clutching tightly onto his mug of butterbeer to keep warm.

Shiro raised a skeptical eyebrow. “We _just_ had lunch at The Three Broomsticks, and now you want candy?”

Matt faked a pout. “I'm _hungry_ , Takashi.”

Shiro didn't know why he didn't mind it when Matt called him that. Even with his own parents, he preferred Shiro. But it seemed to make the frigid air around them less cold, somehow. Like Matt was casting a spell just by saying his name.

Maybe he was, in a way.

He was snapped out of these thoughts by Matt nudging him again. “Hello? Earth to Shiro? Are you falling into an abyss of thoughts again?”

Shiro snorted, but started in the direction of the candy shop anyway. “I assume I'm paying?”

Matt seemed to consider this. “If you're offering, yes. I'll pay you back in dollars.”

“What would _I_ do with dollars?” Shiro asked him. “Everyone in my family is a wizard.”

“Oh, excuse me, I forgot,” Matt said sarcastically. “You're a _pure-blood_ , which means you're too good for the disgusting money that mere _muggles_ use. I, a common _mudblood_ , shouldn't even be talking to—”

“Hey,” Shiro interrupted, feeling a twinge of anger at the use of the word. “Don't say that about yourself.”

“Oh, come on Takashi! It's funny!” Matt protested, between fits of laughter. “No matter how many times I hear it, I'll never get why you take offense to that word. It's just a stupid insult, like a curse word or something. If I use it about myself, then it takes the power away from the people that are actually using it to be malicious. Don't wizards always say that names have power?”

“I still wish you wouldn't use it,” Shiro said, and grabbed Matt's arm so the other would meet his gaze. “I get that it doesn't bother you, and it's great that you don't care, but it bothers _me_ that people would use something as stupid as how many wizards are in your family to judge you. You're the smartest person I know, you're doing better in every class than me, even the ones we share because you're so good you got moved ahead in a few! Me being 'pure-blooded' doesn't account for anything. You having non-magic parents doesn't account for anything. I wish people would just judge you on who _you_ are, because maybe then they'd realize what they're missing.”

Matt was staring at him with wide eyes, a faint blush dusted across his cheeks.

“Although, this way,” Shiro muttered, dropping his gaze. “I do have you all to myself. So I guess I shouldn't complain.”

Matt stared at him for a second longer before he, too, averted his eyes. “You know I love you for worrying,” Matt said, and Shiro's heart skipped a beat. Even if they were best friends, and they'd said those words to each other a million times... he never stopped hoping that maybe, _this_ time, Matt meant something more. “But seriously. Hufflepuff is full of the most positive people around. No one in our house has ever made any comments before. Or... well, maybe they just know you'd beat them up if they did.”

Shiro couldn't help but laugh a little at that.

“Again, are we sure you weren't supposed to be put in Gryffindor? _You're_ one of the bravest people I know.”

“Both my parents were in Gryffindor, but I like Hufflepuff. It's... calmer. People in Gryffindor are always getting themselves into fights and other trouble, and I prefer to resolve those issues rather than start them.”

Matt snorted. “At least we know Lance and Keith are in the right house, huh?”

“You can say that again,” Shiro replied. “But what about you? Mister 'I'm the best in my year but I'm not even a Ravenclaw.'”

Matt smiled at him. “Point taken. But like you said, I'm glad I'm a Hufflepuff. If I wasn't in this house, I... I never would've met you.”

Now it was Shiro's turn to blush. “Oh.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Matt said, staring determinedly at the ground to change the subject. “I do wish Pidge was in Ravenclaw, sometimes. I feel like she might've... I don't know, done better there? She's super smart, smarter than me even, but a lot of people in Slytherin are... you know. Not the biggest fans of muggles. I'm glad she's made so many friends in other houses.”

“If there's anything I know about your sister, it's that she can handle herself, even though I know she appreciates you watching out for her. She's strong. Ambitious. That's why I know the sorting hat made the right choice,” Shiro said. “Maybe Katie would've been a good Ravenclaw, but Pidge?”

Matt sighed. “Yeah, you're right. That new haircut she got to start off second year is too badass for Ravenclaw.”

Shiro smirked. “She looks like you, when you were a first year. With those big glasses, and before your hair got longer.”

Matt shoved him, but there was no real force in it. “Oh, shut up.”

“She'll be a third year next year, right?” Shiro asked. “Which means she, Lance, and Hunk will have even more opportunities to get themselves into trouble, once she can come to Hogsmeade.”

“I'm pretty sure she's already snuck here multiple times,” Matt said. “I have no doubt the three of them know all the secret passages in the castle, and she seems suspiciously familiar with Honeydukes candy, whenever I bring it back for her.”

Shiro laughed. “You and Pidge really are a lot alike. I hope she'll hang out with us sometimes, when she's actually allowed to be here.”

“Yeah,” Matt said. “But I do kind of like it when it's just the two of us.”

There was that warm feeling again. “Yeah, me too.”

A beat of silence, in which both of them abruptly realized that they were standing directly in front of the door to Honeydukes. Neither made a move to go inside.

“Takashi,” Matt said slowly, and Shiro turned to look at him. “I want to say sorry, in case I'm reading this wrong.”

“What do you—”

Shiro didn't have time to finish his sentence before Matt's arms were around his neck, lips pressed against his own. He was too shocked to even respond.

Clearly, he remained surprised for a moment too long, because Matt almost immediately started to step back.

Before he could, Shiro wound his arms around Matt's waist, and drew him closer. He shut his eyes, just drinking in the feeling of kissing his best friend.

He'd been thinking about doing this for months now, but it hadn't even occurred to him that Matt could possibly feel the same way.

He'd been scared that he'd ruin the friendship, but now he could see that it was nothing more than a step in the right direction. A step closer to the person he wanted to be with for as long as the other would let him.

And finally, there they were. Standing and kissing in the middle of a crowded Hogsmeade street. The air was freezing, the snow soaking into Shiro's shoes, but all he felt was comfort, and warmth, and _joy_.

It was a while before he pulled back, because as much as Shiro wanted to stay like that forever, he knew they should probably _say_ something instead of just 'snogging.'

He opened his eyes slowly, almost afraid of what he'd see, even though Matt had been the one to kiss him.

Matt's eyes _sparkled_. “Wow,” he said, hardly more than a whisper. “You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that.”

Shiro smiled softly. “I think I might have some idea.”

Matt's blush deepened, and he opened his mouth to speak again, but was interrupted by a loud whistle.

The two of them whirled around to see Lance and Hunk standing a little ways behind them, seemingly waiting to get inside the Honeydukes.

Which... Matt and Shiro had been blocking. Shiro groaned, and his his face in Matt's shoulder while the other offered the two third-years a sheepish grin. “Sorry, you guys!”

“Don't apologize!” Lance said with a wave of his hand, as he headed into the candy store, with a laughing Hunk following him. “It was about time.”

The door shut behind them, and Shiro looked back at Matt. “You know what? I think it was.”

 

* * *

 

Shiro opened his eyes only to find that his familiar, house cat patronus was walking leisurely through the air. It stopped when it reached Matt, who was a few paces away from him now, and curled up in the other's arms.

“Your patronus likes me!” Matt exclaimed happily, rubbing the creature behind its ears.

“It knows you'd never hurt me,” Shiro told him, and Matt blushed again. No matter how long they were together, Shiro still found him easily getting embarrassed to be endearing.

“Ugh! Stop being so sappy! It's making my ears bleed just to listen to you!” Pidge complained from across the room. Neither of them paid her any mind.

“You were thinking of our first kiss, weren't you?” Matt asked softly, low enough so only Shiro would hear.

He nodded. “Sorry, I know it's cheesy, but—”

“Not at all,” Matt said, with a small smile. “It's my happiest memory, too.”

 


	5. Allura

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again! Long wait, but I've been having a super busy week. This chapter was also super hard to write, since I'm not very used to writing for Allura. And it took me a bit longer to get ready to post because I'M not sure how I like this one. But regardless, I hope you enjoy. The next two should be up very quickly, since I'm almost done writing them. Thank you so much for your patience and your continued support of this self-indulgent Harry Potter AU!

Allura's memories were a complete mix of good and bad. She'd lived through some truly wondrous experiences, and some at the opposite end of the spectrum.

But it was impossible for her happiest memory to be from any time other than her earliest years, because of something that happened to make all following moments decidedly less happy.

Her mother died when Allura was only ten, a year before she even went to Hogwarts.

Her father worked there as the Transfiguration professor, but her mother regarded Allura as a full time career, and quit working at the ministry in order to take care of her. Which made sense, considering how much of a handful she was, and that she had to be home-schooled for a decade before she could attend the wizarding school.

Allura's mother, however, had never been one to just sit around idly. She'd always been fascinated with combining spells, and mixing potions to create new ones with new purposes. Sometimes, she created wonderful things. And sometimes, she stumbled upon a combination that had a horrible result.

Her mother loved the risk of it all, which ultimately led to her death.

Years before that though, the summer after Allura turned seven, her happiest memory took place. Back when she was young, and always cheerful, and blissfully ignorant of all that would come to pass in her future. Both the good and the bad.

And even though it was so long ago, she remembered it like it had happened yesterday.

 

* * *

 

Her family was decently known in the wizarding world, and both her parents had many friends that they would invite over often for dinner parties and the like. As their only child, people expected Allura to be perfectly polite to every one of them, and of course she was.

She greeted the countless numbers of names and faces that walked through her door, and acted the part of the proper daughter a pure-blooded family so well-respected as the Alteas was expected to have.

In short, she did exactly what she was supposed to do. Most of the time.

But on this particular day, Allura's typically easy-going mood was ruined.

It happened at the very beginning of the party. Numerous other rich, pure-blooded wizard families had already arrived at their large house, and many more continued to file in. Plates of finger foods were everywhere Allura turned, and she plucked several small portions of foods off of the plates she passed by.

Allura loved these parties. She loved seeing her parents in their element— arm in arm and laughing with their closest friends. She loved people watching, and catching snippets of conversation. She loved that she was young enough to be allowed to be able to do whatever she pleased, and the social constraints that confined the adults didn't apply to her, at least not as strictly.

Although sometimes, she kind of hated that everyone couldn't care less that she was even there. As much as observing the fun entertained her, some part of her ached to be able to truly engage in it all.

That specific day, however, was a tad different. Her mother had been experimenting with potion ingredients recently, and combined the effects of a weak love potion and liquid luck along with her favorite flower, the juniberry, to create a bright pink liquid that would make the drinker in higher spirits with just one sip.

Allura wasn't allowed to have even a drop, of course. She suspected that it was due to Professor Blaytz comparing the drink's effects, when he tasted it, to 'alcohol.' Whatever _that_ was.

Still, Allura's father decided they absolutely _had_ to serve his wife's latest stroke of genius at the party, and so she was tasked with handing the drinks out to the guests, just so she could introduce them and credit her mother.

Allura didn't mind _too_ much. It would allow her to navigate the party and draw a small degree of attention, which was what she'd wanted.

She _didn't_ want to be seen as just some kid. She wanted to be taken seriously. She'd begin her wizarding education in just a few years, and as her parents' only child, she had a reputation to uphold. A name to live up too. A lineage of powerful wizards to make proud.

In her childish naivety, Allura saw this simple task as a first step in that direction. She could show all her parents' friends how responsible she was, how mature. She was only handing out drinks, yes, but she knew it would make her mother smile. And so she decided to put her all into the task.

But Allura never even got to hand out a single glass, because almost immediately after she picked up the tray, someone roughly bumped into her.

The tray tilted, and clattered to the floor. The glasses shattered. The bright pink elixir spilled all over her favorite dress, staining it.

Allura almost called out in outrage after the person, but he just kept walking, without even a glance back or a muttered apology. It seemed like he hadn't even noticed she was there. Like she didn't exist at all.

She belatedly realized that the man who'd so rudely bumped into her was none other than the headmaster of Hogwarts, Professor Zarkon. Allura bristled, but no one was paying any attention to her. She was nothing but a child, after all.

She glanced down, mortified, at her sopping wet dress, then immediately turned on her heel and ran to her room, slamming the door behind her.

Allura wanted nothing more than to ignore the rest of the party. She had nothing else to wear, and even if she did, she'd be too embarrassed to go back in.

Then again, did someone who was invisible to everyone surrounding her have to be embarrassed? Had anyone even noticed where she'd gone?

Evidently, someone had, because it wasn't long before a sharp knock sounded at her door.

“Allura?” It was her mother's voice. “Are you in there?”

She didn't answer, but the door creaked open anyway. Her mother took one look at the dress, and her face fell. “Oh no. I'm so sorry, sunshine. I know that dress is your favorite.”

Allura didn't say anything. Just stubbornly crossed her arms over her chest.

“Your father's still out there,” her mother said, and jerked a thumb behind her. “Dinner's just been served, and he's about to give a toast. You always love hearing his speeches, are you sure you don't want to...?” She trailed off, with a small sigh.

“My dress is ruined,” Allura said miserably, though it was obvious.

Her mother slowly sat down on the bed beside her. “Do you want me to look in your closet for another one? It's the beginning of the party, so I'm sure no one will notice if you change.”

“That's the _problem_ ,” Allura told her. “No one notices me. Nobody cares.”

Her mother smiled sadly. “You know your father and I care about you more than anything.”

“I know,” Allura mumbled, and then was quiet again for a time. When she spoke again, it was to try and shove down a sob. “Your drinks are ruined, too. The juniberry potions. All of them.”

“Oh, sunshine. I don't care about that.”

“But _why_?” Allura asked. “You spent so long making them! You worked so hard on them! Why aren't you angry? I'm angry! It's all my fault, and the headmaster's for bumping into me. Your drinks, my dress, the whole _party_ is—”

“Allura,” her mother interrupted her, kind yet stern. “I don't care about the drinks because you're upset. And you're my priority. You are always going to be my priority. I love you, more than anything in the universe.”

Allura blinked, and felt tears coming to her eyes.

“You didn't ruin anything. Don't blame yourself for something as small as a few spilled drinks. I can just make more, and serve them at the next party. Goodness knows your father hosts too many of these,” she said with a grin, which made Allura laugh softly. “And... as for your dress...”

She trailed off. Then, with a simple wave of her wand, the large pink stain on the dress disappeared, as if it had never even been there in the first place.

“Looks like you don't have to find a new dress after all! It's good as new.”

Allura looked at the dress, and then back at her smiling mother with wide eyes. “Magic fixes  _ everything _ ,” she whispered in awe. “I can't wait to learn!”

Instead of agreeing, Allura's mother pursed her lips. “Magic... magic can't fix everything, Allura. A lot of things, yes. A stain on a dress is easy to wash away, magic or no. But some things, though ruined just as easily, cannot be fixed so quickly, if at all.”

The irony wasn't lost on her, thinking back on it. These exact words spoken to Allura by her mother would replay in her head for months after the tragedy she at that time had no idea would occur.

As it was, however, Allura had just tilted her head to the side in confusion. “Why not?”

Her mother sighed fondly. “Magic is a large part of who we are. It is a part of who  _you_ are, Allura. It's in your blood, it runs through your veins. It gives you great power, and yes, the ability to right many wrongs. But it is not  _all_ of what you are, and you cannot rely on it for everything. Magic is not the solution to every problem. You must remember that.”

And though she didn't entirely understand, Allura nodded.

“That being said...” Her mother seemed to hesitate, before pulling at the chain around her neck, and lifting the trinket at the end of it. “The magic in our family is very powerful. If you use it wisely, you will be able to shape the very path of fate. Just keep in perspective— what you can and can't change.”

“Is that... a time turner?” Allura reached out a hand to touch it, her fingers hovering in the air, unsure if she dared to.

Her mother nodded. “One day, it will belong to you. It is a great responsibility, one entrusted to me by the ministry, and one I believe you will have no trouble bearing. You are your father's daughter after all, and you can handle whatever life throws at you, I'm sure. And I'm sure this will help you, in the future. Or the past. However you choose to look at it,” she said, and her eyes glinted with a joy that was absolutely contagious. “Just... just don't try to take the burden of the world off of everyone's shoulders, Allura. You are only one witch, and you can only do so much.”

 

* * *

 

Allura's fingers trailed absentmindedly up to rest on the chain of the time turner, as they often did. She opened her eyes, and found the patronus of a horse looking back at her, before galloping full speed across the Room of Requirement, and then circling back around after passing all of her friends.

Allura felt tears spring to her eyes. She'd kept her mother's words with her every day since, and especially after her death, which was something Allura couldn't change, no matter how much she might want to. No matter how many efforts she made.

Because her mother was right. She only had so much power, and she could only do so much with it.

But with her magic, and the help of her mother's time turner, she would do everything she could to 'right wrongs', as her mother would say, and fix as many things as she could.

Despite the tears that now ran freely down her cheeks, Allura was still  _happy_ . As she looked around at her smiling friends, all looking at her patronus in awe, she figured she'd been doing a pretty good job with following her mother's advice. She didn't try to take all of their burdens from them, didn't pretend that she could. But Allura would always lighten them, as much as she was able.

 


	6. Lotor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Second to last chapter, and the last one (Keith's, which was my favorite one to write) should be up to celebrate July 4th! After that, we can get into the real plot stuff of this AU. Because it mostly focuses on Keith and Lance, I just wanted to give you little snippets of all the really important characters before that. And for reference, the story jumps around throughout their years in Hogwarts and the happy memories are all from different times, but they casting the patronuses happens when they're all at the ages in the ending notes.
> 
> P.S. this chapter goes into detail on why Lotor has the patronus he has. If you want that for other characters too, let me know, but most everything before this is pretty self explanatory. And I planned to make lotura a background ship before season six happened... so I'm sorry if this annoys you. In this AU, if they do ever become a thing, Lotor's not actually an asshole. But again, the focus isn't really on them, anyway. Please enjoy, and comments are (as always) very much encouraged!

At the words 'happy memory,' Lotor ruled out his family almost immediately.

His father, despite being the Headmaster of an entire school, couldn't be bothered to spend time with his own child, and his mother, the potions professor, was more of the same. Supposedly, they'd been in love at some point, but Lotor wasn't around for that part.

He didn't care that much, though. For as long as he'd known them, they seemed  _ incapable  _ of love, and so he couldn't find it in himself to harbor any affection for them. They may have brought him into this world, but that was where their role as parents both began and ended. Almost all of his childhood memories centered only on him and his nanny, Diak, who had the responsibility of both raising him and teaching him until he was old enough to go to Hogwarts himself.

Hogwarts was... it was wonderful. Much to his dismay, Lotor wound up put in Slytherin, the house in which his parents had met. But he got over that quickly, since the house was perfect for him, even if he  _ refused _ to grow up to be like either of them. Besides, being in Slytherin allowed him to meet and befriend Acxa, followed by Ezor, Zethrid, and Narti.

Later on, he met the seven people in the Room of Requirement with him then. Lotor still wasn't quite sure how well he fit in with the group. They'd all known each other for much longer than he had known them, having not met Allura until a little over a year ago. He'd been introduced to the others gradually in the following months, and he still often felt like she was the only one of them that truly understood him. Not to mention that he was sure several of her friends legitimately disliked him, especially the two Gryffindors. It was admittedly understandable, and so Lotor usually preferred hanging out with his Slytherin friends. At least he could be sure that all of them enjoyed his company.

Well, almost sure, anyway.

As he watched the others conjure their patronuses, his eyes met the electric blue ones of Allura, and she smiled softly at him as her own charm came to life.

Thinking, Lotor spoke the words of the spell, a memory hovering with them on the tip of his tongue.

 

* * *

 

It was in his sixth year that it happened, sitting in the class of his own mother. He loved the subject of potions, and was actually rather good at it, but the less he had to interact with 'Professor Haggar', the better. For this reason, he always sat in the back of his class, alone.

That particular day was a joint class between Slytherins and Ravenclaws of his age, as had happened many times before. Overall, not extraordinary in the slightest.

Until the door opened, about fifteen minutes into the work period they'd been given.

In walked a girl with striking eyes, and long hair in a messy, disheveled bun. Her books were gathered in her hands, and her blue and silver lined Ravenclaw robes were falling down around her shoulders, exposing the white button up she wore underneath and making it clear that she'd come in a rush.

Everyone's eyes turned to her, and her face immediately flushed a deep red.

“Excuse me,” she started, voice just as sheepish as the expression on her face. “But is this—?”

“Yes, you're in the right place,” Haggar snapped, with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Please take your seat. Everyone, this is Miss Allura Altea. She's going to be joining our potions class for the rest of the year.”

Lotor gaped at that. This girl must've been Professor Alfor's daughter, then. He didn't know why he hadn't made the connection the second she walked in; anyone could see the resemblance. He really enjoyed his class, much more than those taught by his own parents. But hadn't he said his daughter was younger than them, one day in class?

Well, of course. Lotor would've had classes with her before if she wasn't. She must've been moved up a year in potions, which came as no surprise to Lotor. Professor Alfor often bragged about how wonderful his daughter was at magic, and Lotor didn't doubt it. From what he'd heard, Allura's mother was a Metamorphmagus, a witch with the ability to alter her appearance at will. Lotor hadn't known what to make of that rumor, although it would explain the unnatural snow white of Allura's hair. Perhaps the trait had been passed down.

Allura's mother was also incredibly skilled at potion-making, almost as much so as his own mother. Or... she had been, before her untimely death.

He turned, ready to focus on his potion and stop needlessly musing over things that would definitely not do to mention now, when a thud sounded beside him.

Lotor glanced up to see that this Allura Altea had plopped down into the seat next to him. At his surprised look, she smiled apologetically.

“Is it okay if I—?”

“No, no it's— it's fine,” Lotor said quickly, now feeling his own face go red. Really. He prided himself on being unaffected by most things. But apparently all it took to get him flustered was a pretty girl.

That didn't make any sense, though. Lotor's four best friends were all girls, all of them beautiful. He was fairly certain Acxa might even be harboring feelings for him. A real shame, since Ezor seemed into _her._ But he'd never even entertained the thought of romance. Lotor simply didn't have time for such nonsense, and besides, it never interested him anyway.

And yet... and yet...

Allura was sweet, and gorgeous, and smiling at him, and she was close enough that he could tell she smelled like flowers. And Lotor somehow forgot how to breathe.

“Thank you,” she said kindly, beginning to sort through the massive pile of books and finding the potions one meant for Professor Haggar's class. “And... you are?”

“Today we're supposed to be brewing the powerful love potion, _Amortentia._ I've already gotten started on it,” he told her. “But there are plenty of other ingredients to add.” He flipped through his potions book, scanning the directions as well as the notes written in the margins. It had belonged to his mother when she was at Hogwarts— the faded cursive writing on the inside cover read 'Honerva.' She'd devised many new and better ways to make old potions within it, even when she was but a student. It felt almost like he was keeping a piece of the old her with him... the mother who, once upon a time, had loved him.

He forced the houghts out of his head and looked back up at Allura, who was staring at him.

“What?” Lotor asked nervously, wondering if he'd somehow said all that out loud.

“I was asking for your name,” she said, laughter in her voice.

Lotor felt his cheeks heat up again. “Oh. It's Lotor.” It came out of his mouth before he could think, and he immediately cringed afterwards. Because, of course, there were rumors floating around about him, too.

That his parents both despised him. That Headmaster Zarkon had thought he'd married a pure-blooded witch, only to find out after his son's birth that her grandmother on one side was a Veela. That he'd accused of her of using those charms to bewitch him, and giving him a weak, impure heir. That they no longer spoke to each other, and slept on opposite sides of their manor, leaving Lotor with his nanny in the middle. That they'd as good as disowned him. That Lotor resented his parents, and would curse the very ground they walked on if he could. And that despite all this, he was just like them. A cold-hearted, power-seeking Slytherin who would inevitably let down all those he cared for.

Lotor had grown immune to the whispers he heard in the hall. How could it bother him, when every word they spoke was true?

But something about Allura having heard all those things said about him made him ashamed. He wanted to... to _prove_ to her that he was a better person than everyone thought. Than his parents thought.

Even so, Allura's eyes darkened when she heard his name. “You're Headmaster Zarkon's son.”

“And you're Professor Alfor's daughter,” he replied, and tried for a smile. “Transfiguration has always been one of my favorite classes.”

Her smile returned slowly, much more guarded this time. But Lotor still counted it as a win.

“Mine, too,” she said. “When I was little and dreaming about going to Hogwarts, it was always the class I looked forward too the most. Although I do love potions quite a lot.”

“Clearly. Being moved a year ahead is impressive. We're doing some pretty advanced stuff. You must be very clever,” Lotor said. “Though I can't say I'm surprised, considering your family.”

“My family?”

“Yes, of course. The Alteas are one of the most well-known wizard families out there, and all of them are known to be incredibly gifted in magic. I can see that you are no different.”

Allura's blush deepened. “I... I have been blessed by my lineage, though you perhaps give it too much credit. All witches and wizards have the same magical potential, regardless of their bloodline.”

Lotor didn't necessarily agree with that. Allura's blood was as pure as could be, and she claimed that her background had nothing to do with it? And yet here she was, the only Hogwarts student that Lotor knew of who took classes meant for later years. But he knew she didn't share the beliefs he had been raised on; that pure-blood equated power. So, he didn't voice these thoughts. “Maybe you're right. You're here because you lived _up_ to that potential, and went beyond.”

“You flatter me,” she mumbled. Lotor didn't know why he was, didn't know why he wanted to assure her how wonderful she was, but he wouldn't deny it. Allura seemed lost in thought, and her fingers drifted down to lightly brush a chain she wore around her neck. It drew Lotor's attention to it.

“Is that a time turner?!” he blurted, voice a harsh whisper. He'd never seen one in person before.

Allura glanced down at it, and stared at her traitorous hand that had reached for it. “...Yes,” she said, and tucked it under her shirt so that only the chain was visible, then pulled her robes tighter around herself. “It was my mother's.”

“I'm sorry,” Lotor averted his eyes, and he really was. Of course he'd somehow manage to make her upset. “She... she was a brilliant witch. I've heard many times of her talents. The world would be a much better place with your mother still in it.”

Allura's eyes welled up with tears, and for a moment Lotor wondered if he'd said something wrong. Then, “Thank you,” Allura said softly. “One day, I want to work in the Ministry of Magic, just as she did before she stopped to take care of me. I can only hope to be half the witch she was.”

“I've only just met you today, but... if first impressions are anything to go by, I think she would be proud of you,” Lotor said. “For what it's worth.”

“It's worth a lot,” Allura mumbled, and rubbed at her eyes for a moment before looking back up at him. “Well, what about you? Do you want to work at Hogwarts one day, like your parents?”

“No,” Lotor said immediately, and Allura blinked at the quick response. “It's an admirable profession, to be sure... but I don't think I would do well as a teacher. Not that my parents are exactly good at what they do.”

Allura seemed shocked that he would so bluntly disrespect his parents, especially with one of them in the same room as them. She glanced over at where Professor Haggar was yelling at another student for using a wrong ingredient. “Your parents are a bit... strict, but—”

“Try pure evil.”

Allura snorted at that. It was completely unexpected; Lotor thought the Alteas were all about manners and properness. But Allura descended into laughter to the point where she had to cover her mouth with a hand because everyone had turned to stare at the two of them.

Lotor had been struck by her beauty when she first walked in of course, but this was entirely different. The warm feeling that seemed invade his system, stealing the air from is lungs and quickening his heart, was strange. New. He... he'd been speaking to her for such a short time, but there was this _spark_ he'd never felt for anyone else. Allura Altea was, without a doubt, the most amazing person he'd ever met.

“Well,” Allura said, as she finally got her amusement under control. “Regardless of your aversion to the idea of following in your mother's footsteps, you are quite good at potions. How about we put the finishing touches on this _Amortentia_?”

Lotor nodded, and sprinkled in the last ingredient. A spiral of steam lifted from the finsihed, shining potion, and he leaned in automatically.

“It's said you can smell what you're attracted to,” Allura told him in a stage whisper, punctuating the statement with a laugh.

Lotor sniffed, but... he didn't smell anything. Just—

He looked over at Allura with wide eyes as he realized. He just smelled flowers.

 

* * *

 

Lotor stared at his apparent patronus; a snake slithering around on the floor. He felt something in his stomach drop.

No matter how hard he tried to be different, no matter how much he distanced himself, he would always end up here.

No matter how much he hated his parents, he would always become them.

A hand on his shoulder startled him out of the spiral of dark thoughts, and he turned to see Allura gracing him with that same smile he'd seen a thousand times since that day. The smile that could always, somehow, lift his spirits.

“The snake is one of the most intelligent animals,” she said, voice low. “They are intuitive and so can make their own judgements, which causes them to be a bit more private than other species.” And here, her eyes shined, as if they were sharing an inside joke. “Due to their ability to shed their skin, they often are said to symbolize transformation, and healing.”

She moved her hands up to cup his face, and looked him in the eye.

“You are _nothing_ like them. And you never will be.”

_You don't know that_ , Lotor thought miserably. _You don't know me. Not really._

But instead he just nodded. At least one of them believed it.

 


	7. Keith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! The last chapter of this work, so that I can move into the actual plot stuff of this AU throughout the summer. I hope you guys are excited for it; this chapter is the first glimpse of what the majority of what you'll be seeing is. Slow burn, mutual pining, rivals to friends to boyfriends, roommates, all that good stuff. I got some plans.
> 
> I hope you enjoy! I think this chapter is the best one. (And yes, it's a day late, but I changed the date to July 4th anyway because it's supposedly a holiday. And even if I may be very, very frustrated with my own country, Keith and Lance are red and blue so. This is as patriotic as it's gonna get for me).

Keith figured it was pretty telling that he had to think for a moment in order to come up with a happy memory he could use to conjure a patronus.

Well, more than a moment, really.

Most of the others seemed to know exactly what memory to use right away, even Lotor.

Lance, Pidge, and Allura all started gushing about their families. Hunk and Lotor both admitted that their happiest memory involved meeting a friend for the first time. Shiro and Matt shared a knowing smile.

Something about it made Keith's heart _twist_.

He tried thinking about his family, but as the only Gryffindor to come from generations and generations of pure-blooded Slytherins, he didn't have much positivity to work with there. His parents had always favored his older sister Acxa, something that was only solidified when he got sorted. They saw him as a black sheep, a bad egg.

It only hurt a little. Keith had given up on having a good relationship with his family years ago.

Maybe... maybe when he met Shiro? He couldn't think of one particularly strong memory on the spot, but the older student had always looked out for him, though they didn't share a house. He'd actually been the one to buy Keith his Firebolt, and convince him to try out for the Quidditch team.

Quidditch... of course! Keith was always happiest when practicing or playing the sport. It felt like his escape from a world full of darkness. He'd been Gryffindor's Seeker since his first year, an exception made due to his talent at flying while most students couldn't even try out until their second year.

Keith was trying to think of a specific game he could use when someone spoke to him.

“What's the matter, Keith? Too emo to think of even one happy memory?”

Keith whirled around to glare at Lance, irritated, only to stop short when he realized that the tone of voice leaned more toward friendly teasing than insulting.

And then he noticed that Lance was smiling at him, as his own dolphin patronus swam around him in circles.

That was... that was new.

Except it wasn't, not really. Keith just still couldn't wrap his mind around it.

Lance had hated him during their entire first year. They shared a house, shared a dorm, shared nearly all of their classes, but everything he tried to do to make peace just seemed to dig him into a deeper hole.

It was anyone's guess as to why. Maybe it was because of Keith's pure-blooded lineage, and how wizards of the same kind looked down on Lance often due to his parents being a witch and a muggle. Maybe it was because Keith got put on the Gryffindor Quidditch team a year before the other boy, and got the position of Seeker, which was much more showy than Lance's, since there were three Chasers on each team. Maybe he hated that Keith was doing better in some classes than him, or maybe he really had just hated Keith's personality in general.

Or maybe it was some combination. Keith had no idea.

He supposed he hadn't been exactly friendly in that first year either, though.

But... it was strange. When they started playing on the same Quidditch team, they'd been forced to at least _cooperate_ since they both wanted to win, and the only way to do that was to do it together. That cooperation had evolved slowly into mutual respect, and then eventually into something almost like a friendship.

Though the word _friendship_ felt wrong, somehow. It made something in Keith ache. Hardly noticeable, but the feeling seemed to surface every time Lance smiled at him, like he did then.

Said smile wavered, and turned self-conscious. “What?” Lance asked, which was exactly when Keith realized he'd been staring at him.

“Nothing,” Keith said quickly, and turned away. “But... I just thought of one.”

 

* * *

 

The roar of the crowd was deafening, but Keith could still barely hear it over the wind rushing in his ears. And he liked it that way.

Keith absolutely hated being the center of anyone's attention, and it took Shiro a while to convince him to even try Quidditch just because he didn't like the idea of a crowd of people, the entire _school_ , watching his every move. But when he played Quidditch, he was absorbed in it, and it was almost as if the crowd didn't exist at all.

It helped that Keith was the Seeker. People watched the Chasers and Beaters for the majority of the game because they were entertaining. He watched for the Snitch, mostly hovering in one place for extended periods of time unless he caught sight of it.

Lance, for his part, loved the attention. He flew down the field, Quaffle in hand, completely in his element. Everyone watched him score.

“Another ten points to Gryffindor!” Professor Coran announced proudly, and the crowd cheered in response. “Lance McClain is on  _ fire _ today! His Nimbus 2000 sure is doing him good.”

Keith repressed an eye roll. Their charms professor, Coran, doubled as the announcer for every Quidditch game, and his favoritism for whichever team he rooted for was... less than covert.

Lance waved dramatically at the audience, grinning, and Keith fought down his exasperation. Even though the other boy was obnoxious, he had to admit that Lance was a damn good Chaser. The best on their team, definitely, if not the best in the whole school. He'd scored fifty points in this game alone so far, and he'd done much better in the past. Maybe he'd wanted to be a Seeker for the show of it all, but... Lance's aim was  _ perfect. _

With a start, Keith noticed the bludger sailing straight towards said Chaser. “Lance! Look out!” he called, and Lance sped downward, narrowly avoiding it. He then looked up, gave Keith a quick nod in thanks for the warning, and began tailing Lotor, one of Slytherin's Chasers with the Quaffle.

Keith let out a breath of relief. A hit like that would've almost certainly broken Lance's arm, and they couldn't afford to be without him in this game.

It was the last game of the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup. The game that, if they won, would make Gryffindor the reigning Quidditch champions of their fourth year at Hogwarts.  _ Everything _ was riding on this.

Keith pushed himself higher on his Firebolt, to get a better view of the Quidditch pitch. Slytherin's Seeker seemed just as unaware as he was to the Snitch's potential location, and Gryffindor had taken back the Quaffle. He allowed himself a brief moment to scan the crowd.

He spotted Shiro and Matt almost immediately, pressed close together and both cheering loudly for Gryffindor despite it not being their house, and he smiled despite himself. Pidge had somehow managed to sneak into the Hufflepuff stands beside them, and appeared to have red face paint on underneath her glasses. She was rooting for Gryffindor even as a member of the Slytherin house, and one who had actually been thinking of trying out for their Quidditch team in  _ her _ fourth year.

Suddenly, Keith's eyes caught on something near the stands. A flash of gold and silver was all it took to spur him into action. He sped across the pitch in seconds, hand outstretched to grab it. The Snitch did not stay still, however. It too flew away at incredible speed, and Keith gave chase.

“Oh, what's this?” Coran shouted, raising his voice even louder than the charm naturally made it so he could be heard over the sudden ruckus of the crowd. “Could Seeker Keith Kogane have found the Snitch? It looks like Slytherin won't give up though!”

Keith was already aware of the Slytherin Seeker following him, but he doubted that the other guy had actually seen the Snitch, which had already put considerable distance between itself and Keith.

“Keith!”

The shout startled him, and he turned just in time to see a bludger hurtling toward his face. Keith barely had enough time to duck his head before it sailed over him, and he cast a glare at the Slytherin Beater who had hit it, Zethrid. That could've given him a concussion, or worse, but she didn't seem to care much. He scanned the air ahead of him for the Snitch, but it was gone. Thankfully, the other Seeker had no idea where it'd went either.

Keith instead turned briefly to look at the person who had warned him, though he already knew it was Lance. He nodded a 'thank you,' just as Lance had minutes before.

Lance nodded back with that contagious grin of his. “I got ya, buddy! Now go catch that Snitch! Let's win this thing!” With that said, Lance sped off once again in the direction of the Quaffle, easily catching a pass from another Gryffindor Chaser and scoring yet another ten points.

Coran cheered louder than most of the fans at that, although maybe that was just the enchantment that allowed him to narrate the players' moves. Even so, Keith wasn't surprised. Lance had always been one of the man's favorite students, and as the head of Ravenclaw house, Coran didn't have any obligation to root for Slytherin.

Allura and Hunk stood beside Coran in the blue and silver decorated stands, shouting just as loudly to cheer on their best friend. Slytherin had beat their Quidditch team, and of course they now didn't want them to win the whole tournament, so the entire Ravenclaw house wore red, and Hufflepuff had done the same. Let alone Gryffindor, which was basically a monochromatic sea.

Keith's heart swelled at the sight. All of these people... cheering for him.

That's when Keith spotted the Snitch again. The Slytherin Seeker was already heading for it, but thankfully a Beater on Keith's team hit a bludger directly at him, which sent him spiraling off. The Beater gave Keith a brief salute before she flew off again, bat in hand. Coran announced the move proudly, and then continued to shout as Keith sped again towards the elusive Snitch.

“Keith is on the move again— but wait! What's this?! Lance appears to have been nearly knocked off his broom! I'm not sure if that counts as a foul from Slytherin's Chaser, Acxa, but—”

Keith didn't listen to what Coran was saying beyond that; his head had already snapped around to look against his will. Acxa, his older sister, who was usually the only stickler on the Slytherin team about playing fair, had tried to knock Lance off his  _ broom _ ? He made eye contact with her, only for her to immediately turn away.

Keith glanced down. His heart seized in his chest. Lance clung to his broomstick with one hand, high above the ground.  _ Too high for a fall. _ Without realizing it, perhaps without him even willing it too, Keith's Firebolt started to swerve towards him.

And then Lance looked at him, and pointed with his free hand after the Snitch as if he wasn't quite literally holding onto the only thing keeping him from free-falling dozens of feet to his death with the other. He shouted something, and Keith couldn't make it out from this far away. But he got the message.

What was he  _ thinking _ ? Someone would save Lance if he fell, but Keith couldn't worry about that. He only had one job to do; win this for his team.

He willed his Firebolt as fast as it could go, this time able to regain visuals on the Snitch. The Slytherin Seeker wasn't exactly being subtle about tailing it, but he was still further away than Keith.

Suddenly, the Snitch stopped in midair. Then, it plummeted straight down.

Keith didn't even give himself time to think. His flying instincts took over, and he sent his broom into a nose-dive. There was a reason he'd been allowed to join in his first year.  _ Nobody _ could fly like him, with such reckless, fast movement, and still come out of it completely okay. The other Quidditch players probably thought he was crazy. The audience certainly did. And maybe they were right. But Keith  _ lived _ for this feeling.

The Snitch stopped just shy of the ground, so Keith pulled up just enough to be flying parallel to it, stretching out his hand again. The other Seeker was trying to get in close more slowly. Not a bad play, because it was considerably less reckless than Keith's strategy, but with the Firebolt he could pull it off.

The Snitch started to put more distance between itself and Keith, so in a split second decision he lunged for it, leaping off of his broom and rolling to the ground. But he felt the Snitch— snug in his palm. He held it up triumphantly from the ground, grin breaking across his face.  _ He'd done it. _

“Keith! You did it!” Lance said, landing on the field a few yards away from him. Keith only had a moment to marvel at he'd somehow managed to get back on his broom and fly down onto the ground, and then Lance was beside him, smiling brightly. He held out a hand to help Keith up off the ground. “We won!”

If Keith remembered correctly, that was the first time he felt that strange ache in his chest.

“ _ We _ did it,” Keith amended, taking the hand without hesitation. “Coran was right, you were on fire today! You scored so many times! You deserve as much credit for this win as I do, if not more.”

“Oh, please,” Lance scoffed. “I got a lot of points, sure, but you're the one who scored the  _ one hundred and fifty points _ from the Snitch! And that nose-dive at the end, man? That was crazy!”

“You're the one that's crazy! Seriously, you'd give professional Chasers a run for their money. How'd you manage to get back on your broom?” Keith asked. Lance blushed, but still opened his mouth as if to protest. “You were the one to tell me to go after the Snitch at the end there, instead of helping you. And if you hadn't pointed out that bludger earlier, I would've been toast. So at least give yourself some of the credit, Lance.”

Lance was quiet for a second, something unusual in and of itself. And then...  _ oh _ . Keith had never seen his smiles look so soft before.

“We make a pretty good team, don't we?” Lance asked. It was then that he realized he was still holding onto Lance's hand.

Keith nodded, and gave the hand a squeeze before letting it go. “Yeah. We do.”

To Keith's surprise, Lance hoisted him up off the ground like he weighed nothing. “GRYFFINDOR WINS!” He heard Coran's shout, but the noise of his teammates yelling and cheering around him quickly replaced it. They carried him into the castle on their shoulders, holding Keith aloft like some kind of king. He waved at Shiro, Matt, and Pidge when he saw them in the crowd, unable to stop smiling. Even Acxa's cold glare before she stalked back towards the castle couldn't put a damper on his spirits.

And then he looked down, and his eyes met Lance's blue ones. “We did it,” Lance said again, this time much softer. Somehow it felt like it meant something different, like a secret passed between the two of them.

Keith didn't know exactly what it meant. But he nodded.

 

* * *

Keith opened his eyes. The shimmering wolf was as big as the real thing, and looked just as menacing. Some patronuses he couldn't understand, but if he were a Dementor, he'd run away from his own charm in a hearbeat.

It stared up at him, blinked its huge eyes, before leaping towards him. Keith stumbled backwards, preparing for impact, but the wolf charged right through him. He turned around and, with mounting embarrassment, saw that it had run to Lance.

“A wolf,” Lance observed with a laugh as he petted the glowing fur. His fingers mostly phased through the image, as patronus charms were made of light, but that didn't seem to stop the wolf from enjoying the attention. “How fitting. The loner of animals.”

Keith wanted to point out that wolves usually needed packs, or they would die. They actually longed for closeness, because it made them feel more safe. And they cared deeply about protecting each other. But instead, he just said, “Dolphins are the most social. And the most obnoxious.”

Years, or even months ago, a statement like that could've started a long argument. But Lance just smiled at him again. “Maybe that's why we get along so well,” Lance said, obviously meaning it as a joke. A sarcastic comment about how different they were.

But those differences were exactly why they could work so well together as a team. Keith nodded, suppressing a smile of his own. “Yeah. Maybe.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> The houses, followed by their ages for the majority of this AU series (although a lot of it will be told through flashback, this is mostly just to show their age in relation to each other.)
> 
> Lance: Gryffindor, 5th Year  
> Keith: Gryffindor, 5th Year  
> Hunk: Ravenclaw, 5th Year  
> Pidge: Slytherin, 4th Year  
> Shiro: Hufflepuff, 7th Year  
> Matt: Hufflepuff, 6th Year  
> Allura: Ravenclaw, 6th Year  
> Lotor: Slytherin, 7th Year  
> Other minor characters (Lotor's generals, Shay, Romelle) TBD.


End file.
